


Dreams

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: F/M, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'i was wondering if i could get a mike/reader fic where mike likes the reader who is oblivious to his feelings, and then either davy or micky (i cant decide which would be better) has a sexy dream about the reader, which they joke and tell her about. this then makes mike pretty jealous and pushes him to reveal his feelings'WHY PICK?





	Dreams

“For Pete’s sake…”

“Yes, Michael?” Peter drawls, and you giggle as you turn the page of your drawing book; Mike narrows his eyes, and looks around the room.

“Do you and Davy have to fuckin’ trash every room you share?”

“I don’t look at it as ‘trashing’, Michael.” Peter finishes rolling the joint, and looks up at him. “I refer to it as ‘making comfortable’. (Y/N), is this room more comfortable?” You look up at Mike, and experience the usual crisis you get when looking at him. You don’t want to annoy him – that’s 50% crush and 50% blind terror – and then at Peter.

“It’s definitely more comfortable… but it’s… definitely not tidy,” you say, and Mike folds his arms, dark eyes on Peter.

“Oh, you fence-sitter, you,” Peter said amiably, and blows you a kiss – you roll your eyes, and stand up off of the bed. The floor is mostly cushions and bedding – it’s definitely more comfortable. But it is… you look around at the wreckage… not going to come cheap. Mike reaches out almost instinctively to steady you, and your skin tingles as he touches you. “Oh, where are you going?”

“I just want to get some air,” you say, and Mike follows you – you aren’t sure why, but you feel nervous about it. As you pace down the hotel corridor towards the open fire escape where Davy and Micky are, Mike grabs your arm – it’s not really a grab, actually, that’s a strong word, but he rests his hand on it, and you stop.

“(Y/N), are you gonna be heading out with us after the show?”

“I think so, why?” you say, and he shrugs, looking very uncomfortable. What did you do? He pats your arm, and then shrugs again.

“Uh… I was wondering…”

“(Y/N)!”

You turn, and Micky’s stood in the doorway, grinning.

“Hey, sweet thing, guess what.” You roll your eyes, and Mike steps back, biting his lip. “Come out here, Davy’s got a secret for you.” You see Davy, teeth gritted in anger, behind him, and pad towards them in interest. “No, really. David, would you care to share your secret?”

“No, I don’t want to, Micky, and if you don’t want a smack in the bloody mouth I’d shut your face,” Davy snaps, and you look between them. Micky grins, and grabs your arm, hauling you through the door and outside.

“David had a dream about you last night. Do you wanna hear the details?” he crows, and Davy looks like he’s about to throw him off the balcony. “Okay, well, I’ll tell you, because I heard about ‘em when Davy was washing his bedding this morning…”

“Okay, Micky, gross.” You shake your head, and Davy, who by now is practically purple, steps forward; you shake your head at him. “It’s just a dream, right?” Davy huffs, and then bares his teeth in what looks like a vicious grin.

“Well, Mick, what about the dream you had?”

Micky looks as if a firework has gone off in his face, and Davy smirks, pressing home the advantage.

“Yeah, Peter told me about that one, from a few weeks ago?” He looks at you, and mouths ‘sorry’; you get it. This is about revenge, and you shake your head.

“I’m flattered, boys, but I’m not interested in either of you.” You stride past, and Mike watches you go – from behind you, you hear him take a deep breath, and cover your ears until you’re around the corner. Good thing – you can hear it even when you close the door to your room.

“ _You two are fuckin’ assholes, you know that-!_ ”

* * *

“I’ve never had a dream about you, if that makes you feel… something.” Peter shrugs, and takes a sip of the liquid in his glass. “ _Why_  do people put mint into drinks?”

“Honestly, it’s just a dream. I don’t care,” you say, watching Mike. He’s brooding in the corner like Mr Darcy, and that’s pretty hot, in your opinion. You wonder if he’s ever had a dream about you…

…because you have about him.

“Your crush on Michael is showing, (Y/N),” Peter teases you affectionately, and you shake your head. “You drink this, I have to make sure David isn’t fighting anybody.” He pats your arm, and you sigh, only to blink as his seat is filled in seconds by Mike, who you swear was across the room.

“Hey. I knocked those asshole’s heads together. That’s not cool,” he says, and you smile at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Mike, it’s fine,” you say, and take a sip of the drink, grimacing. It  _is_  gross. You put it down, and Mike grabs his wallet. “No, Mike, I can buy my own…” He looks at you sternly, and you fold your arms. “Really.”

“Okay. But it was so gross, the way they spoke to you.” He grits his teeth. “How can they just say that shit, man…?”

“It’s really not that big a deal. Maybe I just need a Southern gentleman like you,” you say – it’s supposed to sound jokey, but it comes out as slightly awkward, and he just watches you, before putting his wallet away.

“Hey, maybe you do,” he says, and again, the askew smile on his face does not come through in his tone; you sit there, awkwardly, and to break the silence you order your next drink. He’s still watching you, and it’s making your skin tingle.

“I mean,” you say, the alcohol speaking for you, “I’ve had a dream about you.”

His brown eyes widen, and you swallow nervously.

“I mean… just… about… I… it was…” You flounder, realising that you have definitely said the wrong thing and nothing may fix it. “It was…” You shrug, and Mike bites his lip.

“Hello. Davy and Micky are having a fight outside,” Peter says, very calmly, and you jump, not even realising that he’s appeared. Mike groans, and goes to stand up, and Peter sighs. “You’re not even going to finish the conversation?”

“There is no conversation,” Mike said, swallowing as he looks at you, jaw clenched; Peter sighs, and points at the two of you.

“Do I have to pretend I dreamt about fucking her to get you two together, or what? Just kiss or something. I’m going to go and knock Davy out if Micky hasn’t. I’ll let you know what happened.”

He walks away, and you and Mike look at each other awkwardly.

“I… he…” He pauses. “I’m not being very gentlemanly, am I? I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Your voice is carefully measured, and he smiles a little, at that. “I… I just… didn’t assume you’d have time for me.” He reaches out and takes your hand, kissing it gently – somehow, that’s more romantic than a kiss on the lips, and you blush.

“I will have plenty of time for you, if you want that.” You nod. “Just as soon as I stop Davy from being put in the hospital.”


End file.
